


and I'm ready to forge ahead

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Personal Growth, S3 Canon Wishfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: It catches Michael off guard that Alex considers him to be the best of him, when he finds out. It leads Michael to self-evaluate and realize that maybe he's got a ways to go until he can become that man that Alex thinks he is (and the man that Michael wants to be).As he starts walking down that road, it also is converging with Alex's, and bringing them back together as they figure out who they are individually and how those two individuals can come together.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, background Alex Manes/Forrest Long - Relationship
Comments: 78
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Avett Brothers "May It Last".
> 
> This is my hope of how Michael might see some growth over the next season, and will be in three parts. I hope to share new chapters each week, but definitely will cap out at three!

There’s someone lurking in the junkyard. 

Sanders doesn’t keep dogs since he lost his last one (because he’d said, “I got my own alien guard-dog, what the hell do I need a Rottweiler for?”) and there’s no alarm system, which means that Michael is the only thing standing in between the townies and copper wire. For the most part, he only fights them back because he’s spoiling for a fight, or because he’d wanted the wire for himself.

These days, he pretty much lets the town assholes take the scrap they can find, because most of them don’t know what to do with it and end up back here anyway looking for a connection to sell it.

Plus, Michael’s just opened a beer, and he’s not keen to leave the warmth of the fire he’d started.

“You got one of those for me?”

Squinting through the flames, Michael lets out a shocked scoff at the intruder. “Greg,” he greets with a nod, trying to tamp down his disappointment that this isn’t the Manes he’d been hoping would show up at the scrapyard.

Why would Alex, though?

From what he’s heard, Alex has been dating Forrest for the last few weeks and has been happier than he ever has been. At least, that had been Max’s opinion, but heartbroken-Max is also a bitter and somewhat cutting Max, which Michael takes with a grain of salt. 

“Depends on what you’re here for,” Michael says, even if he’s already leaning down to grab a bottle of beer from the cooler, extending it out to him. 

“Mostly to talk. Maybe a little to call you an idiot.” 

Michael gives Greg an unimpressed look, but he’s not arguing it. He knows he’s kind of an idiot, but he’s also not in the mood for a lecture about why. Even with the accusation slung at him, he ends up handing him a beer. He’s not in the mood to make more enemies of Alex’s family these days, especially not when Greg really went to bat for him.

“If this is about Alex and the song…”

“It is,” Greg cuts him off. “I don’t care that you walked away, Guerin. He’s with Forrest and I haven’t seen my baby brother that happy in a while, so I am grateful for that and I’m supporting them however I can.”

He’s not here to break them up, which means that Michael’s lost about why he _is_ here.

“So why am I an idiot?”

“Because you didn’t ask me, or Alex, or anyone who stuck around about the end of it.” 

“What about the end of it?” he asks, already exhausted with the back and forth.

Greg digs out his cell and finds a recording, holding it out for Michael to hear over the crackle of the fire. “ _You were the best of me. You are the best of me,_ ” Alex sings on the recording, tinny and distant. 

“I thought it was important for you to know that even after all that crap with my Dad, my brother still thinks you’re the best person he knows. I think you needed to hear that, too,” Greg admits, tucking his cell phone away like he hasn’t just shattered Michael’s whole worldview.

He stares up at Greg, not sure what he’s hoping to hear from him, but it looks like Greg isn’t here to stay.

“What, that’s it?” Michael scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, Guerin, that’s it. My Dad’s out of the picture,” he says firmly. “That means that Alex can be himself, but I think maybe it’s a chance for you to also be whoever Michael Guerin is, when he’s not tied down to one awful moment in the past. You’re not a bad guy,” he says. “At least, from what I can tell and definitely not in Alex’s eyes. You don’t need to let Jesse’s shitty beliefs make you think that.”

He shrugs, like he’s half-content with the speech (which does sound rehearsed, and Michael wonders how many times he’s tried that in the mirror).

“Anyway,” Greg says. “Just try and live up to what my brother sees in you. Okay? You don’t wanna see what I’ll do if you let him down.”

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Michael guarantees. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna try and be a good person.” 

Michael’s own words echo in his head.

_I want to be good for someone._

All this time, Alex never told him that he was better than good. He was the _best_ of him. Michael watches Greg walk away, not sure what he wants to do with that information. 

Greg’s right. Alex is trying something new with Forrest and Michael has to respect that. Maybe what he owes to Alex is living up to his opinion of Guerin. 

Maybe he’s not as worthless and hopeless as he’s been thinking and all this time, sitting around hoping to be good for someone doesn’t mean he has to change who he is. Maybe it’s time to get his head out of his ass and stop fucking around, not for Alex, but for himself.

If he’s gonna be the best of Alex Manes, that’s one hell of a tall order. 

He thinks he can do it, though.

* * *

He hates Planet 7.

Michael hates it with all his heart, but he loves Isobel more than he hates this stupid glitter-ridden bar (it’s always in the urinals, like it’s never cleaned out), and so he’s here to hang out with her. Valenti is also here, but apparently that’s because they’re sort of friends now, and Valenti wants some time to decompress after the last few stressful months of nearing losing his new girlfriend. He gets it. He just wishes that Isobel had been content with Valenti’s company and not dragged Michael along for a night of wings on drag queens, glitter, and endless covers of _Jolene_.

“Hey cowboy, you look lonely here on your own.”

Isobel and Valenti are out there dancing to the fifth cover of Jolene, with pronouns changed this time so the singer croons about, ‘please don’t take my gal’. Michael glances sideways to find a hot guy leaning on the bar near him. He’s barrel-chested in a way that’d make Valenti envious, and his dark curls fall on his forehead that has Michael enviously wondering why his own never do that so artfully. He’s got freckles on his tawny-brown skin, which looks smooth to the touch, and fuck, he’s hot.

“Funny, I don’t feel it,” he replies, smiling politely at the guy. “I’m not looking to change that, in case you’re asking.”

“Not even if I buy you a drink?”

Michael glances to the side to see a table nearby watching intently, cheering on their buddy. “You got some fans over there?” he changes the subject, nodding to them.

“Yeah, guys from my firefighter squad,” the guy admits with a fond laugh. “This is my first night out after a breakup a few months ago. They want me living my best life.” 

It’s sweet, it really is. He can see Kyle and Isobel watching him from where they’re dancing, which means he’s got a cheering section of his own. The thing is, a few months ago, he probably would’ve tumbled the hot firefighter into the bathroom for a quickie. 

Instead, he’s thinking that random sex when he’s trying to grow as a person isn’t going to help anyone. The thought is so mature, he needs to knock back his drink just to shake the awful taste of it in his head. 

“Look, you’re smoking hot,” Michael says bluntly, because he doesn’t want to beat around the bush. “I just kind of got out of a relationship myself, but I’m trying to prove to myself that fucking around doesn’t solve all my issues. I mean, normally, you would’ve been the rebound to end all rebounds.”

Because damn, does the firefighter look like he could do all kinds of amazing things with Michael’s body.

“You’re making me feel kind of like an asshole,” the hot firefighter quips, but he’s smiling. “Must have been some relationship.”

“It was,” Michael admits. “Showed me that I could do relationships.” Things with Maria had been good for him, but it’s over and that’s the past. He doesn’t say that he’s trying to be better to prove the man he loves right about him. He just knows that if he ever wants to have a shot with Alex again, a real one, he wants to be able to be honest with him.

Telling him that he came to Planet 7 to get his brains fucked out on the rebound from Alex’s best friend probably won’t go over well.

And, honestly, more than that, Michael’s realizing that’s not actually what he wants. 

Sex used to be the easiest thing in the world for Michael, but maybe that’s the point of what he’s trying to grow from. “Look, you are super hot,” Michael says bluntly. “And if I were looking for a rough and tough tumble, you’d be the first one I hit up, but I’m just here with some friends to have a good time.” 

The firefighter nods, like he understands, but he still ends up scribbling a number on a piece of paper, holding it out to Michael. “If you change your mind?” he offers hopefully.

“Keep it,” Michael encourages. “There’s way better fish than me in this bar.” 

Michael watches the firefighter return to his friends, only feeling a little bad for the ribbing he’s clearly getting. In his mind, he starts counting down, expecting that he’s about to hear from his own little coalition of opinionated friends in no time.

He doesn’t have to wait for very long.

It’s like Isobel and Kyle can sense when he’s done, because he feels their presence at his elbow within moments. “All right, gimme hell,” he encourages, because he knows it’s coming.

“You turned him down?”

“I don’t want a one-night stand,” Michael protests. 

“And he’s not bi?”

Michael gives Isobel an amused laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t ask for his credentials, but I’m pretty sure he’s mostly checking out Kyle’s ass and not yours.” 

Isobel follows the line of sight to confirm that Michael’s telling the truth. She leans over to nudge Kyle in his well-defined abs. “Kyle, if you were ever having any doubts about your sexuality…”

“Still not, Isobel, thanks.”

“...then you should definitely hop on Michael’s sloppy seconds,” she finishes, draping her arms around Michael’s neck. “Not in the mood for a little _fuego_ action?”

“I’m trying to be good.”

“Is this about Alex?” Kyle asks him. 

“No,” Michael retorts, and he’s not even lying -- not really. “Okay, maybe, but only because I want to be the kind of person who comes out to the bar with his friends and goes home with them, too. You shouldn’t have to drag me out of here on my sloppy ass or find me in a car with a hot piece of ass.”

Though, Isobel is right. The firefighter is definitely hot. 

When he glances back to Kyle and Isobel, they’re both giving him approving looks. It makes him feel dirty, weirdly enough. 

“Okay, stop,” he scowls. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“We’re just proud of you,” Isobel says.

“I mean, you’re taking some liberties speaking for me,” Kyle scoffs, “but I’m happy for Alex’s sake.”

“I thought you two liked Forrest,” Michael says, a little confused about the mixed messages. Kyle being happy that he’s becoming a better guy because of _Alex_ almost sounds like he’s rooting for them to make things work.

“I do,” Kyle insists. “Isobel doesn’t, something about taking your side?”

“I mean, come on,” Isobel complains. “It’s not even about taking Michael’s side. Is Alex dating himself ten years ago? The dyed hair, the outsider attitude, the _poetry_ ,” she gripes, and Michael takes that as a signal to pry the shot of vodka from her hands since she’s already rambling drunkenly. 

Michael’s not entirely sure that this rant is because she feels protective of Michael or because she’s heavily opinionated herself, but he pats her hand and takes it as a sign. “Okay, if we’re bitching about casual acquaintances, we’re done here,” he says, digging into his wallet to pay their tab.

He needs Kyle to not look so damn impressed by basic human decency when he does that, because it’s bugging the shit out of him. 

“C’mon, hot stuff,” he says, smacking Kyle’s ass to get him to move. “Or I am gonna let the firefighter have a run at you.” 

There’s the scowl he knows and loves from Kyle. Michael helps to get them into the taxi, which mostly means the both of them are struggling to get Isobel inside without her flashing any tits or other private areas, which takes a lot of effort when Isobel is tipsy enough to mostly be dead weight once they get their hands on her. 

Eventually, the job’s done. With the window open, Michael leans his arm against it to prevent the cab from taking off just yet, because he wants to make sure Kyle doesn’t go running to Alex telling lies or half-truths. 

“She might bitch about Forrest with me, but she’s not gonna try and break them up,” Michael vows, opening the door for Kyle to join Isobel. 

Kyle snorts, bending over to see if Isobel is all right. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I doubt it’ll be the last. It is interesting, though,” he admits. “Because Alex _definitely_ told me once that angsty nerds weren’t his type, even if tall guys are.” 

It’s the last thing he says to Michael before he crawls in after Isobel to ride home with her in the cab, leaving him to wonder when the hell Kyle and Alex were sitting around talking about what kind of guys Alex likes. 

Alex’s horizons must have expanded recently, though, because Forrest definitely ticks at least one or two (really, all three) of those boxes, but that’s his prerogative and Michael doesn’t get a say.

He just has to hope that maybe, one day, his type will wind back around to alien cowboys.

* * *

During one of their attempts at being friends outside of the Wild Pony, Maria told Michael that Alex had made a big deal about how friends _show up_ for each other. It’s something he’d taken to heart, not just with Alex, but with all his other friends that he’s maybe done a shit job of being there for.

He’s trying, he is. 

He shows up with food for Max at his dinner break to keep him fed and to hear his woeful pains about missing Liz. He takes Maria out to the farmer’s market and makes her brunch omelettes with the fresh vegetables. He calls Liz and asks her about her research and lets her hint around after Max.

It’s weirder with Alex, mainly because he doesn’t want to overstep.

Obviously, turning up when he and Forrest are on a date would get weird, so Michael tries to make sure that he’s only ever showing up for Alex in public spaces. Tonight’s the first time that he’s making that effort, and it’s a big one because it’s open mic night.

Michael owes Alex his presence, if nothing else, after what he did last time. 

He’d turned up early to get a table to watch Alex from, but Maria’s already got him covered with a ‘Reserved’ sign front and center, with a little cowboy hat sketched on the side so he knows that this is meant for him. He gets a glass of ice water from the bar, wanting to be in complete control of himself tonight so he can enjoy Alex’s set.

He doesn’t get a chance to sit down and enjoy it, though. 

“Guerin,” Alex says in a panic, grabbing his arm to start tugging him out of his seat. “I need you.”

Michael’s in the middle of swallowing a mouthful of ice water. He chokes on it, head whipping to the side to see Forrest sitting there at a table near the front of the stage by the side, so somehow he doubts Alex _needs_ him in that way.

“Why?” he asks warily. 

“My guitar player bailed at the last minute. His engine’s fucked.”

Oh. Okay. Michael can work with that. He’s on his feet instantly. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll get to his car and tow him here.”

“No, Guerin, I go on in five,” Alex says, the panic still in his eyes. He thrusts the guitar out towards him, looking at him pleadingly. “I need you to play with me.” 

He’s barely played guitar since Max healed his hand, other than the few times he’d played for Maria and then around Alex’s house when they have a get-together with all of them. Alex wants him to play in public? How the hell is he even supposed to know the song? 

Those questions pale in the light of one much bigger question.

Is he really going to let Alex down by saying no?

Michael takes the neck of the guitar and nods, heading up to the main stage area. Alex pushes some sheet music at him, with Alex’s writing scrawled on the notes. “Not too hard, huh,” he says with relief, glancing up to see a wary look flicker over Alex’s face. “Hey, not like that,” he quickly hurries. “I don’t mean it’s simple, just that I’m not exactly as talented as you. More than four chords and you were gonna be taking a real chance.” He scans the music notes quickly, settling down and stretching out his fingers.

It only occurs to him, once he’s sat down, that this will be the first time he’s played with Alex since high school. 

Luckily, seeing Forrest sitting at the bar is a bucket of cold water that keeps him plenty reminded that he’s doing this as a favor to Alex as a friend and that’s okay. He’d want Alex to do the same for him, if he asked.

(Unbidden, a memory flickers to his mind outside this same bar, of Michael in a low mood and Alex sidling up and looking beautiful in the soft light, all because Guerin asked).

“We got this,” Alex guarantees, facing Michael instead of the audience. He slides onto the piano bench and greets the crowd, introducing Michael with a gesture towards him. “He’s new,” Alex shares, leaning down into the microphone like he’s sharing a secret. “But I think he’s pretty great, so I hope you guys will too.”

Michael ducks his head down to hide the flush in his cheeks (and to avoid seeing anyone’s expression), and focuses on the strings. 

Alex’s song is beautiful and Michael doesn’t fuck it up, which is a miracle. He manages to get through the set missing a few chords here and there, but it doesn’t seem to ruin the performance. 

The applause at the end is completely earned, and Michael is wildly proud of Alex for taking these steps to be up on the stage like this. It’s hard to miss, though, that Forrest is applauding loudest of all, whistling for Alex as he stands on the stool’s rim, even as Maria laughs at him to get down.

“That was great, Alex,” Michael says, helping to clear the stage for the next guy. “I’m just gonna…” He gestures to the fire door, deciding to escape so he can get some air and calm down. 

He’s Alex’s friend and this is what friends do for one another. 

He just can’t help the fact that he feels overwhelmed with a dozen emotions that he’s hard-pressed to name, but knows they all seem to fall in line with his nostalgia and his wish that they’d done this a hell of a lot sooner. He’s trying really hard telling himself that he’s not running away.

He’s not.

He’s still here, he’s just cooling down and getting out of the fray. Besides, he’s not alone for very long. Michael glances up from his place against the wall of the Pony to see Alex exiting the Pony, along with a few cars starting up as open mic night winds down. 

“Thanks again, Guerin, you were a lifesaver,” Alex says when he catches up to him outside. 

The cool air is much needed on his skin, calming him down from how worked up the song had made him. Even though Michael knows they’re just friends, he wants to offer Alex a ride home so they can talk about how good they’d sounded up there together, but then he sees Forrest in the corner of his eye, waiting in his electric car.

Michael shakes his head ruefully, because of course he even cares about the damn environment.

“Why’d it take so long for us to do that?” Michael wonders, deciding to try packing in the conversation to a smaller window, because he does need to know. 

Alex’s gaze drops to Michael’s hand, which isn’t wrapped in a bandanna now, but it’s pointed enough that he remembers that it hadn’t been possible. Still, it’s been healed for a long time and instead of taking advantage of it, he’d hid it away like a melodramatic asshole. No more, though. 

“Let’s not wait ten years to do it again,” Alex suggests. 

They’re close. Too close to be friendly, but still too far apart to be romantic. Awkwardly, Michael decides to scale it back and put some space between them, but not before he wraps Alex up in his arms with a tight hug. “You were amazing on that stage, Alex.”

Alex’s hand squeezes his shoulder and he holds on tightly before giving them a little space. “I’ve never sounded _that_ good before.” 

Michael’s not sure that’s true. They’d had to play slower for Michael to keep up and he feels like it had compromised Alex’s songs, but if he thinks back, it had given them a slower, dreamier quality. It felt like they were grounded in some real emotion. 

“Then we should do it again sometime,” Michael says, taking in a deep breath. “Now, c’mon, Forrest is waiting,” he encourages, even if it pains him like crazy to have to put on a brave face and send Alex back into his arms. 

Alex turns to see Forrest nearby, lighting up as he waves. “We’re grabbing a bite at the Crashdown. You sure you don’t want to come?”

Every part of him screams that he should interfere. He should go and sit beside Forrest so they can’t canoodle or play footsie or talk about their relationship. He should go and remind Alex what it was like when they were together. 

Those are old thoughts, bad ones, and Michael takes a deep breath and counts to three.

“You earned a date with your boyfriend and I’m waiting for Isobel,” he says, even though the latter part of that is a lie. He’s going to go back inside once he’s caught his breath and Alex is going to go have burgers at the Crashdown.

The worst part is when Michael realizes that all he really wants is for Alex to enjoy himself, the way he couldn’t when Jesse Manes was alive.

Ugh, god, who even is he anymore? 

“Okay, well, I’ll see you around,” Alex vows, clapping a hand against Michael’s shoulder before he waves eagerly to Forrest, ducking into the passenger side of his car before they’re off to go share a milkshake together or whatever other romantic thing Forrest definitely has up his sleeve.

The guy’s got game, Michael will give him that. 

Michael drops into one of the seats at the bar once he heads back inside, feeling like his whole body weighs twice as much as it does. He plucks his cowboy hat off his head and sets it on the bar in front of him, wringing his fingers as he stares glumly at the beer-stained wood. He doesn’t take his eyes off it, not until a glass of soda-water appears in front of him, with the slightest hint of acetone in it.

“You know,” Maria says, leaning her forearms on the bar, “when I said that someone out there could make you happier, I expected you to go after it.”

“I’m not ready,” he says, feeling rough for admitting it, but if there’s anyone he can tell, it’s Maria.

It’s not on Alex. It’s not up to Alex to make Michael feel ready. Michael’s not, but he’s getting there. It’s taking all his strength to fight old impulses, but he’ll get there. 

“You should be careful,” Maria advises. “If you wait too long, then you’ll be ready and he’ll already be gone.”

“If that’s his choice,” Michael hears himself saying and hates himself, fuck, he hates himself for saying it, “then that’s what makes him happy.” He’s not about to sabotage Alex’s shot with Forrest just because Michael wants to take him off the market. Besides, he’s doing all right for himself on his own. 

He’s drinking less, he wakes up remembering more, and he’s even been considering going back to school to take a few classes and round out his education. He’s spending more time with Max and Isobel, he and Maria have become really good friends, and he’s even considering a trip out to visit Liz in California. 

It’s a life that would look good with Alex in it, but it’s not dependent on him.

And, even better, it’s a life that Michael will be a lot more reluctant to blow up, if things go pear-shaped, this time.

“Well,” Maria hums, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you,” she warns.

“If it works out for us and we get a new story, then we will,” Michael insists, and he still feels hopeful that he’ll get the chance. Forrest is nice, he really is, but Michael has this feeling in his gut that says that he and Alex haven’t seen the last of each other, not like that. Until it’s time, he’ll wait and he’ll grow and he’ll learn.

Until then, it’s Alex’s turn for some happiness.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael’s in the middle of replacing an alternator when he catches a glimpse of someone in a suit out of the corner of his eye. Scowling, he wipes his hands on a nearby rag, ready to bitch out whatever corporate lackey is here to demand payment for something when he realizes that this is no corporate shill.

“Alex,” Michael says, looking over the cut of his suit and the way his sleek black tie catches the sun. “Nice duds.”

“Thanks,” Alex says, shifting to his good foot a little awkwardly. “Please tell me you still keep beer here.”

“You know me and my drinking problem,” Michael quips.

Alex doesn’t find it so funny. Maybe it’s not, especially since Michael’s genuinely made an effort to stop drinking so much. He hasn’t quit cold turkey, though, and there’s always a few beers in case he’s got company.

“Yeah, of course I’ve got some,” he says, a little closer to serious seeing as Alex isn’t pissing himself laughing. “What’s up? Why are you dressed up?”

“I went to Kate’s memorial with Forrest today,” Alex says. “And it was...messy.” Michael gets it, because the minute Kate’s name spilled off Alex’s lips, Michael went taut with tension.

Is Alex here to shout at him? To scream at him? Does Forrest know what Michael, Max, and Isobel did? Michael hands Alex a beer, his fingers so tight on the neck of it that he worries that it might snap.

“Messy how?”

Alex takes the beer, wrapping his hands around it and squeezing tightly, before sitting down in one of Michael’s mismatched folding chairs. “I mean, for one, the fact that Rosa is walking and talking and moving around Roswell and Kate Long is still dead is a pretty big one, but I couldn’t exactly bring that up.”

He couldn’t without giving up a lot of secrets, and it’s interesting that Alex hasn’t come to them asking to let Forrest be brought into the loop. Michael’s not sure how he’d feel if he were, but Alex said things got messy and if they didn’t talk about Rosa, then what did they talk about?

“What happened, Alex?”

“I couldn’t talk about Rosa, but I could bring up Jesse. Forrest...he meant well…”

“What happened?” Michael asks again.

“He just, he said that maybe I shouldn’t treat my father like such a villain, that he’s dead and that there must have been some good in him. It’s not like he knows, I don’t tell him that kind of stuff, but it just…” Alex opens and closes his mouth. “I shut down, Michael and I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to talk about the monster that raised me because he’s in the ground and that should mean I don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Michael goes quiet, because he’s not sure what the hell he’s supposed to say.

He doesn’t wish ill on Forrest, but the thing is, he’s also still in love with Alex. He wants them to get a chance to start over, but not like this. He doesn’t want his second chance with Alex to come as a result of him stabbing Forrest in the back.

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” he asks Alex instead.

Alex doesn’t say anything. If he’s not careful, then Michael is going to start plugging in his own reasons using a very creative imagination. Michael watches Alex pick the label off the beer, then watches him shrug.

“I don’t know.”

It sounds honest, and maybe that’s what’s bugging Alex. Forrest is a great guy and definitely seems to have long-term potential, so why not open the door and let him in? It’s not that Alex is scared of his reaction. He’s not scared of selling out his friends. It’s worse than that, because he doesn’t know, and that implies that he’s unsure about things.

“Look, obviously the alien thing is off limits unless you get everyone on board,” Michael says, and that one’s a rule he’s not bending from, “but I think that you should talk to Forrest about your Dad. He didn’t mean to stick his foot in his mouth and it’s clearly messing you up,” he points out, because Alex showing up to drink beer at the scrapyard isn’t normal.

Alex gives an uncertain noise, but Michael knows better than to push.

His relationship with his father is something that Michael has yelled at him for in the past, but it’s not like that got them anywhere. Alex said it best. It’s a complicated fucking mess (he didn’t use those words), which means maybe they all have to stop pretending they know what to do.

“Look, think about it,” Michael insists. “I know I always felt better when you let me talk about my Mom. You know my door is always open, and so’s the cooler,” he quips, gesturing to the beer. “The thing is, I think Forrest would be really happy if you opened up to him like that.”

He knows, because Maria had said the same to him one night after their breakup. It had been one of the ways she’d known that they were never going to really be serious.

Whenever Michael had something big to talk about, he’d call Alex, and that spoke volumes to her. Michael isn’t sharing that with Alex, but he also wants to make sure that he knows that he’s got people to talk to.

“I’ll think about it,” says Alex.

That’s a no.

He’s shutting that side of things down, compartmentalizing, and that’s Alex’s right, but Michael can’t help the sigh he gives. On the one hand, it means his shot is still there. With Alex keeping Forrest from getting to know the real him, Michael’s chances aren’t blotted out, but it just makes Michael sad that Alex wants to keep this away from him.

“Thanks for the beer, Michael. I should really go change,” he admits, prying at his tie. “I hate that I only wear suits to funerals and memorials anymore,” he mutters, loosening the tie as he stands, gripping the edge of the lawn chair a little tighter to help his balance.

Michael doesn’t rush over to help, but he’s got a keen eye on Alex in case he needs to reach out with his powers to give him a steady assist. He doesn’t walk Alex to his SUV, but he keeps an eye on him the whole time.

He never looks away.

Michael snorts and shakes his head, thinking to himself that he’s still pretty pitiful, even if he’s trying to get his life together and make something of himself. Yet, Alex shows up and Michael’s still that seventeen-year-old kid. That’s okay, though. The trick is learning how to balance being seventeen and a successful adult at the same time.

That means going back to the job he’d been working on, popping the hood on Mr. Carney’s car to start the next job. He’s still bent over and deep in his work when he hears someone else approaching, nothing more than a scrape and shuffle.

He doesn’t need anything more than that to know who it is.

“When the hell are you retiring?” he asks without even bothering to turn around.

“When you put that damn business plan in front of me to prove that you can handle this place,” Sanders bitches right back at him. “I saw the Manes boy was here.”

“Glad your one working eye isn’t losing vision,” Michael retorts, turning to head back to the alternator (and probably, he should get back to the business plan at some point, seeing as he’s finished the accounting and the marketing classes he’d been taking to help with that). “What are you asking?”

“You two are friends again?”

“We never stopped being friends.”

Sanders snorts. “Yeah? The way you treated him for a while made me doubt that. Sometimes, I never stop seeing that scared little boy from the group home, lashing out whenever a good thing got too close. You got scared about how much you still felt for him and you pushed him away.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Can you stick to working on cars and not my feelings?”

“Just saying, that looked practically civil,” Sanders says. “He still looks at you longer than he should. You’re worse,” he adds, as if he can’t let Michael run away from that. “You gonna do something about that?”

“He’s got a boyfriend and I got a business plan to put together,” Michael reminds Sanders. “Until that first one changes, he’s still just my friend.”

There’s no clever response to that one.

“You’re right,” Sanders finally says. “Business plan. I’m gonna die someday, kid, and the last thing I want is to end up handing this place over to the damn city council because you couldn’t manage to get something in front of me so I could sign the papers over to you.” He leaves on that _cheery_ note, giving Michael plenty to think about.

“Morbid fuck,” Michael mutters into the engine, shaking his head.

Wiping his hands on the grease-stained rag, Michael closes up the hood of Mr. Carney’s car, glancing back in the direction that Alex had parked in. Alex is happy. Alex is with Forrest. Whatever fresh start Michael’s hoping for, it’s going to have to wait, because the next step for Michael is making sure he has a future for himself and to protect Sanders’ legacy in this town.

Digging out his phone, he calls Isobel and admits defeat.

“Can you come over? I’ve been putting this off long enough,” he admits.

“Am I staging a romantic intervention?” Isobel asks, full of hope.

“PR and marketing advice,” he says, cutting off her dreams at the knees before she gets in too deep. “I gotta finish this business plan this weekend. I’ve been putting it off long enough and I can do the financials, but…” he trails off, letting the implication hang in the air.

No one is going to be as good with the rest as his charmingly charismatic genius of an influencer sister.

“I’ll be there in twenty with food. Be ready,” she warns. “Once we get started on this thing, we’re not stopping until we’re done. We got all weekend and I’m cancelling my plans _and_ I’m calling Max.” He opens his mouth to protest, but she hangs up before he gets a chance. Obviously, it’s on purpose, but as much as Michael is a little ashamed he needs the nudge, he’s also grateful.

This work has been a long time coming and if it takes Max and Isobel to help push it over the edge, then so be it.

* * *

Once Alex confides in him after the memorial, Michael becomes his go-to person when there’s something going on with him and Forrest.

It’s torture.

The thing is, Michael sort of thinks he deserves it. He’s trying to prove that he can be Alex’s friend, which means that they should be having these kinds of conversations, even if it means that Alex confides in him in a way that he never has before.

He’s in the middle of getting ready to go out with Max to the shooting range when he sees Alex’s car creeping onto the junkyard lot. “Hey man,” Michael tells Max. “Can you give me like, ten minutes?”

Max glances in the direction that Michael’s looking, raising both brows. “Isn’t he dating someone else?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” he says, even if the word tastes bitter on his lips. “Didn’t Isobel tell you? I’m turning over a new leaf, being mature. We’re being friends, starting over.”

Max gives him a look that says that he doesn’t entirely believe him. “Ten minutes,” he reminds him, and wanders over to perch on one of Michael’s lawn chairs. “And I’m going to be right here.” He says it like that’s going to be some kind of deterrent, like Michael will do something stupid, but the whole point of his life lately is avoiding stupid things.

Alex doesn’t look as sure that he should stay when he gets out of the car and sees Michael approaching him, with Max over his shoulder. “Bad time?”

“Brotherly bonding,” he quips. “I got some time. What’s up?”

Alex clears his throat, gesturing to the canopy-covered work area. “Can we talk? Maybe not where Max Evans can overhear this?” He’s flushed, but he doesn’t look upset. Michael’s pretty sure this has nothing to do with things with Forrest being bad, but he knows Alex well enough to know that something’s making him uncomfortable.

It’s definitely personal.

Michael nods to show Max where he’s going, which earns Max flashing him nine fingers in the air. Max doesn’t look happy, but then, other than when he’s around Liz, since when does the man ever look happy?

Once he’s got Alex alone, Michael hops onto a nearby barrel, leaning forward and encouraging Alex to speak with a nod.

Somehow, that doesn’t magically do the trick. This is new territory for the both of them, mainly because usually if one of them doesn’t want to talk, they default to their other coping mechanisms, which in order of usefulness rank:

> 1\. Have Sex  
> 2\. Drink Until Michael Passes Out  
> 3\. Fight

Michael doesn’t want to do any of those right now, and it catches him off guard that he actually doesn’t want to do number one on that list. Well, that’s a lie. He always wants Alex, in a low-simmering way he’s pretty sure will never go away completely, but he knows that’s not going to help with whatever is unsettling Alex.

He also gets the sense that he’s not going to solve this in the next nine (or probably, more realistically, down to seven) minutes.

“Hey,” Michael says, before Alex can freak out and leave before they talk. They’re trying to be friends and that means they have to break their old shitty patterns of communication. That means giving them enough time. “Lemme just talk to Max, okay? Just, hold on,” he says.

Alex furrows his brow, but nods, almost like he’s not sure what Michael intends to do.

Michael heads over to where Max is waiting in the lawn chair.

He doesn’t even open his mouth, but Max laughs ruefully. “Great,” he says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Michael snaps. “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t have to. You’re bailing on me,” Max says. Michael instantly feels guilty, but the thing is, Alex isn’t talking and the only reason Michael can figure why not is because of Max’s presence, even if he’s lurking all the way over here. “You better text me with a rain check,” he warns. “I get you’re trying to be friends with him, but you said that we were gonna be a family, remember?”

“I did. I know,” Michael breathes out. “I gotta figure out how to balance this shit,” he admits, knowing that Max isn’t trying to make him feel like an asshole, Michael’s just never had so many friends that he has to actually schedule them in. “Look, we’ll go tomorrow.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Max warns.

“You should,” Michael insists. “Tomorrow, you’re my priority. Even if Alex shows up naked and wet.”

Max raises both brows at Michael, like he’s going to call him on that, which Michael would rather they not do right now. It’s awkward, especially with Alex sitting so close, because now all Michael’s thinking about is Alex, naked, and it’s not like the tortured lust went away, did it? It just turned into a low-simmering lust that he can mostly handle.

“Tomorrow,” Max reminds him.

“Yeah, I’m bad at priorities, not deaf,” Michael says, waving him off.

Max didn’t have a comeback for that, which means that he’d basically written Michael off. Lucky for him, that meant that he had all the time in the world to devote to Alex. It’s not like he says it out loud, but Michael knows that when it comes to people, the list at the top pretty much has Max, Isobel, and Alex jockeying for first place, and because Michael is still stupidly in love with Alex, that name kind of slides up there to the number one spot.

Even when he’d tried not to let that happen, it still did.

“My time’s yours,” Michael tells Alex, once he’s made sure that Max is out of earshot. “What’s up?”

Alex is already sticking his head inside Michael’s beer cooler, lifting up the last of them. “Is it cool if I take this?” Michael nods, gesturing for him to sit.

“The price is telling me why you’re here,” Michael warns, though it’s not like Alex has been shying away from talking to Michael these days. It’s a nice change from the times when he’d just shut down, pretending that he never had anything to talk about with him. Hopefully now that Max is gone, Alex’s weird reticence from earlier will vanish too.

Alex picks at the label on the beer bottle. “Forrest and I were at the drive-in today,” he says.

Michael shoves every ounce of jealousy down under a cinder block until he can look at Alex with an impassive smile. “Sounds like fun.” He ignores the screaming little monstrous jealousy in his head that says that the drive-in is theirs, because it’s not. If anything, it’s where Michael and Alex fucked things up.

And really, the drive-in isn’t the only place they did that.

“Forrest kept wanting to curl up and make out during the movie, and I…”

Something dark dawns on Michael’s features. Alex gets one look and that’s all he needs.

“Whoa, Guerin, not like that,” he insists firmly. “This isn’t where this story is going.”

Good, because if it were, then mature or not, Michael would’ve rounded up a bunch of people and they’d be paying Forrest Long a visit. “Then what’s it like?”

“When I kissed Forrest at the Pony the first time after my song, it was this liberating feeling,” Alex admits, and Michael can hear the pride in his voice. He can hear how Alex felt, almost, like he’d cast off those shackles. “I don’t know if it was the adrenaline of performing in public or the first kiss with someone, but it felt…”

Alex exhales, hand over his heart, smiling in a happy daze.

Michael feels a little light-headed, dizzy, and sick.

“It felt right?” he croaks out.

“It felt new.” Alex is steely as he looks at Michael. “The thing is, even at the end of that kiss, I couldn’t help thinking that it’s no one else’s business what I do with my love life. I think Forrest had me convinced that making out in front of the idiot homophobes in this town would feel good, like winning, and I guess it did, but as a statement that I made, once. It’s not something I want to do regularly, and I think for Forrest, he’s cool with a lot of PDA in a way that I’m not.”

Michael hates feeling so relieved that it’s not just him that Alex had felt like that with.

“It’s not shame?” he hears himself asking, his voice small.

“Guerin…”

“Look, I get it,” Michael cuts him off. “We were just messing around and it’s not like I was something to be proud of. I..”

“Guerin, stop,” Alex takes his turn at interrupting. “I wasn’t ashamed of you, I just wasn’t fully comfortable with me. I was scared,” he admits. “Scared about what would happen if Jesse found out, of what you and I might be if we were serious. Not wanting to make out with Forrest in the parking lot of the drive-in and what happened that morning in the Airstream, they’re two different things. Okay?”

Michael doesn’t trust his voice, so instead, he nods.

“I don’t know how to tell Forrest that I’m not really comfortable with the level of PDA that he wants,” Alex says. “It’s not like I want to hide. It’s not that I’m ashamed. It just feels…” He breathes out and furrows his brow, like he’s looking for the right word. “I don’t want to feel like my relationship is on display for someone else. I don’t want to have to perform to prove to this town that I’m better than them. I just want to enjoy being together.”

“Tell him that.”

Alex looks uncertain and it’s Michael’s first hint that maybe things between Alex and Forrest aren’t strong these days. “Even if it’s an irreconcilable difference?”

“What’s the alternative? You give in, change who you are?” Michael points out, slightly heated at the idea of Alex bending who he is to fit Forrest’s way of life. It feels, a little, like swinging too far in the other direction to prove that Jesse couldn’t control Alex and force him to be something he’s not.

Yeah, it’s more honest, but it’s still not Alex, and it doesn’t sit right with Michael that he’d changed like that to do it. Maybe it hits home in a way Michael is also trying to ignore, how he’d tried to play at being the happy boyfriend while ignoring everything storming beneath his own surface.

“Tell him,” he says. “You’ve spent way too long being someone else’s Alex Manes, haven’t you?”

He thinks he’s done the same. He’s been the Michael Guerin that the town expects out of him for years. He’s not even sure when he gave in to that spiral of bad ideas and let that become who he actually is, he just knows that he’s long overdue to course-correct.

Michael would hate for Alex to end up going down the same path.

“Thanks Guerin,” Alex says, even if he still looks a little uncomfortable. There’s something he’s not saying. Michael can see it in the way that he keeps opening his mouth, then closing it, like he’s thinking better of it.

“What?” Michael prods, finally.

“It doesn’t apply to friendships,” he finally says.

Michael isn’t sure where he’s going with that.

“Huh?” Eloquent, as always.

“I might not want to make out with my boyfriend in public, but I do want my friends to be okay hugging me, touching my hand, squeezing my shoulder.” Alex is staring at Michael like he’s looking for confirmation here, but what does Michael care what Kyle or Maria do when they’re with Alex in public.

So, dumbly, he nods. “Okay?”

“So, you know,” Alex says, clearing his throat a touch awkwardly. “You shouldn’t think that it applies to you. The PDA thing.”

Right. Because Michael is his friend and not his boyfriend. It’s an icy stab that cuts through Michael’s heart, but he deserves it. He had his chance to be with Alex, a few times over, and he fucked it up. It’s probably only right that he’s getting placed in the platonic hugging friend zone. And still, maybe it’s not so bad. It means that Michael gets to touch Alex in those casual brief ways that he hasn’t in years.

He’d spent so long wrapped up in tortured lust that he forgot how thrilling the brief brush of fingers over Alex’s warm skin could be. Besides, if Forrest ends up taking Alex’s whole ‘no PDA’ thing as a crack in their foundation, then who knows?

Maybe friendly hugs can become private touches again.

 _Stop getting ahead of yourself_ , says the voice in Michael’s head.

He’s got plenty to focus on. He’s got the junkyard, he’s got bonding with Max, and at some point, he’s gotta take that trip out to California and see if he can haul Liz back. He needs another genius to bounce ideas off of before he goes insane.

“Go talk to Forrest,” Michael says, his voice sounding rough and awful.

Probably because they’re words he doesn’t want to say.

It also seems like it’s not what Alex wants to hear, because he looks uncertain in response to Michael’s advice. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Michael,” he says, staring at him a long moment like he’s waiting for something else, like Michael to swoop him up into his arms and kiss him or something.

Shame that Alex just told him that he doesn’t like PDA.

Oh, yeah, and because Michael’s trying not to be a bastard.

Still, watching Alex go, Michael feels better. If he does manage to get back with Alex, he knows now that it’s not about shame or a desire to hide from the world. It’s just one of those little facets that makes up who Alex is, and that’s okay. It’s not a reason to blow up the relationship.

He mentally ticks it off in a little column of ‘things he knows about Alex’ and gets back to work, now that he has the afternoon to himself. Tomorrow, he’ll see Max and they’ll have their time together.

The whole time, he suspects he’ll think about Alex.

Then again, it’s not like that’ll be any different from every other day.


	3. Chapter 3

Someone is pounding on the Airstream door.

Michael flips over to the other side, shoving the blanket off him as he rubs a hand over his face. He checks the time on the shitty alarm clock beside the bed, and given the hour of the morning, it probably means that someone is out there wanting help moving a body. 

He’s gotta start setting some hourly rates for his help.

“If anyone’s been murdered, can it please wait until morning?” Michael mumbles, opening the door to see Alex standing on the doorstep with a familiar package in his hand. 

_Ah_. He found it, then. 

He’d dropped the package off on Alex’s back porch with a note that said, _for you_. The package, in this case, being a prosthetic that Michael had lovingly crafted out of the pieces of his ship. The note had gone on to write, _maybe you and Forrest can go paintballing again for some revenge_. 

Michael’s pretty sure that Alex coming around to say thank you could’ve waited for the morning, so his presence here probably doesn’t bode well. He’s not sure how he could’ve fucked this up, but it looks like he did. Otherwise, what the hell would Alex be doing at this hour of the morning with the prosthetic?

“Does it not fit?” Michael asks, rubbing his eyes. 

He’s still exhausted, which means working through the problem is taking a little longer than usual. Maybe Alex is happy about it, but something minor is wrong and he wants to get it adjusted so he can put it on right away. 

From the way Alex is glowering at him, Michael suspects it’s not a fit issue.

“Take it back, Guerin,” he says, shoving the hastily rewrapped prosthetic against Michael’s chest. The push of it hits him with an emotional ache and Michael stares at Alex, lost, and not understanding why he’s being so vindictive and cruel about this. 

“It’s a gift,” he says, trying to ignore the urge within him to lash out. 

Memories of bringing the guitar back to Alex’s flicker through his mind and it’s hell convincing himself that this isn’t some kind of revenge. It’s probably not, but why else would Alex look so fiercely upset? He deserves a better prosthetic and Michael knows for a fact that what he designed is leagues ahead of anything else that he’ll ever get from another engineer on Earth. 

So what the hell is going on? 

“It’s made out of your ship’s materials,” Alex says softly, almost like he’s afraid of being overheard, though the heat in his words is still burning. “Take it back, Guerin.”

“No.”

“Guerin!”

“I said no,” Michael echoes again, sharper. “I told you that I was gonna start saying it. I’m saying it now,” he says, willing to stand his ground on this one. He is not taking back that prosthetic. Alex can let it sit in the corner and collect dust, but Michael’s not letting that gift come back into his lab after all the months he’s spent working on it while he listened to his school lectures in the background. 

Alex looks completely wrecked, wrapping both arms around the prosthetic and holding it tight to his chest like a child clutching to a security blanket. It hurts Michael to think that something he’d created with such love is causing Alex so much pain, and he still doesn’t get _why_.

“Michael, you made this out of pieces of your ship, that means there’s less of you to use to go home.” Alex looks haunted by that and Michael remembers Alex handing the ship piece to him, talking about how he hadn’t wanted to stand in his way.

It looks like Alex is convinced that Michael still wants to leave. He’s got no idea why the hell that’s in his head, because Michael hasn’t intended to do that for ages.

Not that he’s told Alex that, so maybe this is partially on him.

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I wanna be here.”

The thing is, home isn’t out there in the stars. It’s here. It’s where he’s got Sanders giving him files on his regular customers so that Michael can start turning Sanders’ Junkyard into the Truman Junkyard. It’s the Wild Pony, where he can get advice from Maria. It’s Isobel and Max, and calling Liz and begging her to at least come visit. Hell, it’s even Kyle, who gives some surprisingly decent advice when Michael buries the hatchet and asks.

More than anything, it’s home because it’s where Alex is, and it had been easy to take the pieces of his ship and smash them into pieces for Alex. He’d done it for Max. Doing it for Alex, in these bigger quantities, had been the best decision he’s ever had to make. 

“Why?” Alex demands. “You keep showing up for me and you don’t ask for anything. I know you’re a good man, Michael, but…”

“Hey,” Michael cuts him off. “I’ve been a shit friend for a long time because I thought it was how I protected myself,” he corrects him. “You asked me to meet you in the middle, to come home. I’m ready or I think I’m getting there, but I know that you’re doing your own thing and that’s fine. Alex, really. It just means that I gotta keep doing my own thing to prove that I am gonna come home and that I deserve to be there, if I ever get the shot.” 

Alex squeezes the prosthetic, still looking unsure. He’s expecting Alex to tell him that he’s still with Forrest and metaphorically smack his wrist for Michael even suggesting that he’ll get another chance. Hell, maybe he’s going to tell Michael that this is inappropriate, even if it has nothing to do with Michael going home. He braces himself, waiting for Alex to shove the prosthetic back at him.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he watches Alex swallow, the sound making a click in his throat.

“Will you show me how it goes on?” It’s so quiet that he has to strain to hear, but Michael practically sags with relief that Alex isn’t going to make him take it back.

Glancing over his shoulder to the mess of blankets on his bed, Michael gestures for the lawn chairs, using his powers to light the fire pit to give him some light. “Yeah, I’d be honored,” he vows. “Did you get the sock, too?” 

Alex digs into the bag to hold it up. 

“Awesome, it’s got some amazing polymers that Liz helped me out with over the phone,” he rambles, guiding Alex to sit down so he can take his shoes off for him, kneeling in front of him as he unlaces the sneakers and pulls them off. He’s going for the belt when he realizes that his familiarity is muscle memory and definitely not a friend thing.

He freezes, hands at the waist of Alex’s jeans.

“Uh…”

Even in the dim light of the fire, Michael can see the way Alex goes furiously red. “Do you have sweatpants?” he asks, and gets up, heading into the Airstream in his bare feet without even waiting for an answer. 

The door slams shut, making Michael jump, and he swears he loses time because then Alex is walking back out in one of Michael’s pairs of black sweatpants (or Max’s, he thinks, that got left here, because they’re way too big). 

“Perfect,” Michael ekes out, his brain still thinking about how close he’d been to pulling Alex’s pants down without even thinking about it. He’s still on his knees in front of Alex, but he feels safer pushing up the fabric of the black sweatpants until they’re collected around his knee. 

Compartmentalize, he tells his brain. Just fucking _do it_ , he insists, and he’ll give his brain some acetone later.

He slides off the prosthetic and replaces it with the new sock and the alien prosthetic, watching how it reflects the firelight against the shimmering material. Michael’s fingers brush over the carved calf of it, watching the gold shoot through it like a comet as he does. 

“Go ahead,” Michael coaxes, his voice sounding rough. “Try it out.”

He settles back into one of the lawn chairs, scrambling to drink at least half a flask of acetone in one go to calm himself down, watching as Alex tugs the sweatpants down to cover up the prosthetic. He grabs the arms of the lawn chair, standing and doing a quick turn around the fire pit.

“Well?”

Alex presses his lips together, almost like he doesn’t want to say it. “It’s great.”

“Sound happier about it,” Michael mutters.

“Guerin,” Alex sighs. “I’m still getting used to the idea that you used your _ship_ and broke it into parts for me. I mean, I understood when you did it for Max because he’s your brother, but I’m…”

“You’re Alex,” Michael cuts him off, wondering if he genuinely doesn’t know that he’d go above and beyond for him. Max could only ever wish to get that kind of treatment. “I would’ve built you a whole body out of alien parts, if it came to that. I mean, it’d look ridiculous,” he deadpans, trying to elicit a laugh from Alex to break the mood, “but I’d do it.”

He gets it _and_ he gets to bask in that glorious smile of Alex’s, the one that practically knocks him off his feet. “Thanks, Guerin.”

He doesn’t know what to say, but Alex isn’t taking off the prosthetic. Michael nods, staring at him and trying not to feel like his entire planet shifted on its axis in the last few minutes. He swears he’s not making it up, that something in the air has shifted between them, even if he can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“I should go,” he admits, pointing over his shoulder awkwardly. “I woke you up, it’s late…”

“What? It is?” As if it isn’t past midnight and Michael hadn’t been sleeping.

“...and I kind of left Forrest at my place, and um…”

“Right, right,” Michael rubs a hand through his curls, feeling that moment from earlier shatter into awkwardness. “You should go. Right. Of course,” he allows, staring at Alex and wondering why he’d run out on Forrest in the middle of the night to confront him about this. 

Fuck, does it matter?

He’s here. That’s all Michael really ever wants.

“Call me if the prosthetic needs any adjustments, okay?”

Alex nods, but doesn’t say anything as he goes, practically hauling ass to his SUV. At least now Michael knows that the prosthetic can handle swift movement. 

It’s only when Alex’s SUV is completely out of sight that Michael realizes that Alex left wearing Michael’s sweatpants. He pushes out of his chair, finding Alex’s jeans and the old prosthetic sitting on top of the rumpled covers of his bed. 

Michael can’t help his strangled laugh, imagining it as a skin that Alex is shedding as he moves on to the next part of his life. Maybe he’ll go on that paintball date with Forrest. Michael grasps the jeans and squeezes them in his hand before smoothing them out. He folds them, carefully, cautiously, and then puts them in the top drawer. 

It’s just in case Alex ends up wanting them back. 

That night, Michael falls asleep dreaming about Alex walking away from him sturdily, confidently. He thinks (no, he _knows_ ) that Alex had kept looking back at him.

It’s like the song had said.

Now he can’t look away. 

Michael’s trying really hard not to read anything into it, but honestly? It’s getting more difficult by the day. Soon, he’s going to have to do something about it. 

Tomorrow, though.

Tonight, Michael’s plans involve compartmentalizing Alex right into his dreams where no one can stop him.

* * *

Something’s wrong.

It’s been two weeks since he’s seen or talked to Alex. These days, that’s not a good sign, but Michael also doesn’t want to be overly occupied with it. He’s trying to avoid being a stalker or thinking this has anything to do with him. In the middle of the two weeks, Kyle ends up texting him and telling him to give Alex some time, but it’s not he says _why_. 

Still, something is definitely wrong, and he would’ve known it from the fact that Alex hasn’t been around, even before the text. 

He puts it out of mind, because Kyle promises that everything is fine, and when it comes to Alex, he’s the foremost expert these days. Michael throws himself into the final stages of his business plan instead, now that the paperwork from the bank has come in with approval for the small business loan he’d asked for (with Isobel loaning him the rest), and he doesn’t even notice that another week passes without any contact from Alex.

He’s in the middle of reviewing the logos Isobel had sent over when he hears a knock at the door. “Isobel, you sent these an hour ago,” he complains, yanking himself out of the kitchen seats of the Airstream to open the door. “I know you’re excited about the logo, but can you…”

His words taper off when he sees that it’s not Isobel, but Alex.

Then, he checks the time. It’s nearly ten PM, which isn’t late, but also isn’t prime visiting hours. Instantly, Michael searches Alex’s body for any hints that he’s hurt, but there’s no blood or scratches or scars. He’s physically fine, but there’s a sad look in his eyes and his shoulders are hunched in. Michael hauls himself out of the Airstream to get closer, making sure that he’s okay. 

“Hey,” he says, wary and nervous. 

“Hi,” says Alex, who looks anxious and hopeful at the same time. 

Something probably happened with Forrest. 

Fuck, did he propose? 

Is that why Alex has been around less lately? Michael braces himself for the bad news, reminding himself that he’s the one who wanted to wait for a shot with Alex. He’s the one who wanted to be ready. If Forrest saw the incredibly perfect, handsome, kind, generous man in front of him and decided to try and make it permanent, then good on him.

“What’s up?” Michael hears himself asking, but it’s like an out of body experience where he doesn’t actually know why the hell he’s prodding this.

Alex’s nerves don’t go away. If anything, they get worse as he scratches the back of his head, making an artful mess of his hair that only makes him look more handsome. “Uh,” he begins, clearing his throat as he shoots Michael a nervous smile, giving an awkward laugh. “Fuck, this is weird,” he admits. “I just wanted to let you know that Forrest and I, we broke up.” 

That’s not what Michael had been expecting.

The fear of impending wedding bells becomes a blazing alarm, as if Michael’s suddenly being called to act, but he’s frozen in place. “...wait, are you okay?” he asks, grateful as all fuck that he hadn’t done something stupid and smiled at the news.

Alex gives Michael a weary shrug, his brow furrowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I didn’t want to tell him things and as much as I liked spending time with him, we never really felt like we had the same spark that I had with...other people,” he admits, stammering over that last confession. “I guess it was a sign that it was never going to get serious between us, but I liked him. We’re still going to be friends,” he says.

Michael’s glad for that, too. Alex deserves all the friends he can get.

“So, you’re here because…”

Alex licks his lips, eyes fixed on Michael. “I just...I wanted you to know,” he admits. “In case you wanted to say anything to me.” He searches Michael’s face, looking hopeful. “Did you? Want to say anything?” 

_I love you. I still love you. I’ll always love you. I want to be the best man I can be for you if you’ll let me have a chance._

Michael stands there with his mouth open, dumbly staring at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally finds his voice. “Forrest was a good guy, even if he was a complete nerd.”

That gets a soft laugh from Alex. “Yeah, well,” he says, with a pointed look at him. “I have a type.” 

Michael knows that he’s supposed to be supportive, but he’s also pretty sure that Alex just called him a nerd and that’s the kind of thing that only the people nearest and dearest to him are supposed to know and not say out loud. So, “Hey!” is a well deserved protest, even if it earns a smirk out of Alex, which means that had been his intention all along. 

Alex keeps staring at him, clearly expecting Michael to say something.

The thing is, he isn’t ready.

Is he? 

He’s been spending so much time trying to become a better man. He and Sanders had finished transferring the business over to him, writing Michael into the will so he would have some assets to his name. He’s established good friendships with non-alien siblings. He’s at least halved his drinking so it’s not a problem.

Is that enough to be the best version of himself for Alex? That’s the part he’s not so sure about. It’s why instead of telling Alex what he really feels, he heads down that friendship road again.

“If you need to talk or vent or anything at all, you should call me.”

Alex’s face falls, a sign that he’d been hoping for something more. Still, better that Michael gets some time to think and prepare instead of just falling down the rabbit hole of not being good enough and messing everything up. 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, his tone sounding hollow. “Of course.”

“It’s late,” Michael adds, ignoring that glaring flashing neon light that says that Alex came to him at this hour to tell him that he broke up with his boyfriend for a _reason_. “You’ve probably had a rough day. You uh, you should get some rest,” he suggests, trying to make it seem like he’s the one being thoughtful instead of the truth.

Which is that he’s about three seconds from a full on fit of panic because he doesn’t know what to do now that Alex and Michael are both single.

“Probably,” sighs Alex, and gives Michael a weary smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Since I can call anytime.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his heart suddenly feeling like it’s out on his sleeve. “Anytime.”

He watches Alex without looking away once as he goes, retreating to the Airstream to cope with Alex’s news. He ends up staying up all night trying to process it and by the morning, he’s in no better state about what he should do next. 

The breakup bombshell sends ripples through Michael’s life to the point that he feels like he’s on unsteady ground for the next few weeks. He ends up cancelling lunch with Isobel one too many times, because she turns up with Maria in tow with a picnic basket. 

Michael opens the door to see them both standing there smiling sweetly and instantly closes the door. “Michael!” Isobel protests. 

“Nope, I know those looks,” Michael shouts past the door, pressing his forehead to the cool metal. “Those are scheming smiles. Those are the sweet smiles that sirens use to lure men to their deaths!”

“I brought donuts and Maria made travel margaritas.”

They’re still sirens, but Michael’s stomach grumbles and betrays him. He opens the door, staring at them suspiciously. “What’s the price I’m paying for these?”

Opening the door is a mistake, because they push right past him like he’s not even there. Michael scowls as Isobel and Maria both settle in like they belong here, which he’d figured was off the table when his relationship with Maria ended and when he’d told Isobel for the tenth time that she couldn’t have this place once he inherited Sanders’ house. Trust the both of them to ignore that.

“You have to talk about why you’re a chicken if you want donuts and drinks,” Isobel informs him.

Michael gives Maria a pleading look to save him, but she’s clearly unwilling given the stubborn look on her face. “I’m not on your side today. Not when Alex has been at my place for three days this week asking if he read the signals wrong and wondering if you fell out of love with him.”

“Isn’t that awkward?” Michael’s trying everything he can to make this conversation _not happen_.

“He helped me when you and I were together. It’s my turn,” Maria says, unpacking the margaritas. “Sit down, have a drink, and tell us why you won’t do anything.”

Michael’s out of options. 

He lets Isobel serve him a bear claw, accepts a truly generous drink from Maria, and lets them crowd him into the kitchen table for a session of girl talk that he’s both supremely unqualified for and also didn’t ask for at all. He’s two donuts in before he thinks he’s prepared to talk about it, but they don’t pry at all, which is both kind and annoying at the same time. 

“Look,” he says sharply. “Alex thinks I’m the best of him and I think that I’m a lousy excuse for an alien who self-sabotaged his own life.”

“No argument,” Isobel admits.

Maria gives him a sympathetic shrug, but she doesn’t counter him because she knows that once Michael gets going, he doesn’t want someone to stop him. It reeks of Max and his ‘you can do better bud’ that always lands wrong. 

“I’m working on it,” he insists, and he’s grateful that he really is. “I just don’t know if I’m ready right now.”

Isobel licks up some glaze from her pinky. “You know he’s on Grindr, right?” She turns her phone towards Michael and all of a sudden, crumbs from the bear claw are choking him, forcing Maria to help him dislodge it. It had been the picture that did it -- a shirtless thirst trap with Alex’s face mostly obscured by the phone, lanky strands of hair in his face, and a body that looks like Alex has been putting time in at the gym. 

“Isobel,” Maria chides.

“What? There’s a difference between waiting for the right moment and closing your eyes tightly on purpose so you don’t notice when it passes you by.”

Michael coughs one more time, reaching for the margarita to try and wash it down, but he’s not going to be swayed. “If that’s what Alex needs right now, then I’m not interfering. I got my own shit to worry about. End of story.”

Isobel lets out a frustrated groan. “You’re _impossible_ ,” she complains. 

“She’s not wrong,” is Maria’s opinion. “Alex might have that profile up, but he still wants _you_ to tell him that you’re ready.”

Luckily, they let the subject drop and move on to talking about the rest of Roswell’s hot gossip. Michael barely pays attention, thinking about Alex’s profile on a dating app (or, really, a hookup app) and all the things he needs to do before he can be the man that Alex expects him to be. 

Maria and Isobel leave him at dusk, a cab taking them home seeing as they’re plenty tipsy from too many margaritas, and Michael is left with his thoughts, his worries, and his fears that maybe he’ll never be enough for Alex.

Maybe they’ll never get another chance because Michael will never be the man Alex expects him to be.

In the end, the one who smacks sense into his head is probably the least expected from Michael. He’s in the middle of writing down his list of things he thinks he might need to do before he asks Alex out when a shadow looms over him, casting shade on his page.

“Do you mind?” he asks sharply, glancing up to see Sanders standing there. “You’re retired,” he complains. “Shouldn’t you be inside that cushy house of yours knitting or whatever other weird retirement hobby you picked up?”

“Funny you should say that,” Sanders mutters. “I decided that you’re my retirement hobby.”

Michael snorts at the idea. “Get used to disappointment.” Sanders reaches out and yanks on one of his curls, eliciting a yelp from Michael. “Fine, fuck, no harmful self-talk,” he mutters, parroting words from Maria (via Rosa). “Okay, I get it, you want to make up for the time we didn’t get. What is it you wanna tell me?”

“I want you to stop blowing up your own damn life. I waited too long to make an attempt to adopt you. I know I had red flags coming out my ass, but I was putting my life together. I just kept thinking that I wasn’t good enough yet, not for Miss Nora,” Sanders says, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

He refuses to make eye contact with Michael as he speaks. 

“I see a lot of me in you, kid, a hell of a lot. As much as I never got to take you in, I think maybe you wound up taking after me a little too much in the end. The thing is, you should look at where I went wrong so you don’t do the same. You’re never gonna be perfect. Hell, neither am I,” Sanders admits, “but waiting until I thought I was and continuing to self-implode cost me a kid. I don’t want it to cost you someone you love.” 

“Sanders,” Michael pleads. “He thinks that I’m the _best_ of him. I’m not, not yet,” he insists. “I wanna be that guy, but I’m…”

He’s just Michael Guerin. 

“You ever stop to think that Alex doesn’t care what you think? He thought you were the best of him months before you even started down this self-improvement kick. You know what I think? I think that boy loves you. I think he’s finally single. And I think if you let someone else take advantage of that before you do, then I’m leaving this place to Max Evans.”

He doesn’t even bother to stick around to see Michael’s consternation at the idea of that punishment. 

“He doesn’t even know what a spark plug is!” he shouts after Sanders.

“You’re right!” Sanders shouts back, not giving Michael the satisfaction of his gaze. “So move your ass.” 

Fuck. 

What the hell is he waiting for? Maybe Sanders is right. He knows how to swim, he’s checked all the safety precautions, so he’d better jump in the deep end before the water disappears in the forever kind of way. 

Now, he just has to wait for the right moment, but luckily for him, he’s got some ideas in mind.

* * *

Alex has a new song.

He’s heard about it from _everyone_. Even though Michael has been figuring out his own shit, he has texts from Greg that says he better stick around for the end of this song, one from Kyle that mentions that Alex has been watching a lot of old cowboy movies lately for inspiration, and a simple text from Isobel that has three eggplant emojis that are currently scarring him for life.

He calls off the dogs.

Well, he sort of begs everyone to stop, because he’s tired of people shoving him into this when he’d made up his mind weeks ago and has just been waiting for the right opportunity. What better place than at open mic night? Only this time he’s going to stick around instead of bolting in the middle of his song.

The only irritating thing about this is that everyone else seems to know Michael’s game plan too, without him telling them. Kyle, Isobel and Max are all at a small table near the bar. Maria’s made sure that there’s a bartender on staff so she can watch with Rosa. Fuck, even Jenna Cameron is back in town and in the audience. 

For Alex, Michael reminds himself, taking a seat at the table in the front. 

Even Forrest is there in a supportive friend capacity. Michael’s trying really hard not to let his jealousy overwhelm him, because Alex said they were friends. This isn’t about them getting back together. Michael repeats that to himself about three more times before he believes it, but what really does the trick is when Alex heads up to the stage.

His eyes scan the crowd, but when they land on Michael, he lights up like fireworks in the night sky. He’s _radiant_ , beaming in a way Michael hasn’t seen in a while, and that’s what sets him at ease.

Michael is right where he’s supposed to be.

“Hey everyone,” Alex bends down to greet the crowd via the microphone. “Thanks for being here. I’m kind of nervous about this song, so uh, I’m hoping I don’t completely fuck it up when you guys were all really supportive of me last time.” 

Alex starts playing and Michael stops breathing.

The song is a lilting ballad with the guitar filling in the gaps between Alex’s lyrics, but the words are achingly beautiful. He sings about making a place in his heart for a man he’s loved for over a decade. He stares at Michael as the lyrics wind their way to, _our destiny’s been in the stars, but you’ve made a place deep in my heart_ and Michael sheds any doubts that this song is about anyone else.

Fuck, he can practically feel everyone staring him down. 

Alex sings so beautifully that Michael’s pretty sure there’s a few teary eyes in the house tonight, and if it weren’t for his nerves keeping him on edge, he might’ve been one of them. As it is, he waits until Alex is done playing and is the first to his feet, applauding and whistling loudly, his heart pounding against his chest in time with his frantic clapping. Alex nods to the room, but his eyes land on Michael and they don’t shift.

Just like he said in the last song, now he can't look away.

This is it. Michael tells himself that this is his chance. He steps forward before anyone else can even think about talking to Alex, inserting himself between him and the rest of the crowd. 

“Hey,” he says, standing nervously in front of Alex. “Listen, your song was amazing,” he shares. “I uh, I don’t want to take any leaps here, but I’m pretty sure it was about me, right?” 

Alex nods, not taking his eyes off Michael. “The last one was, too.” 

Michael exhales slowly, mindful that everyone he cares about is in this bar (and a lot of people he doesn’t). It’s the right place to show Alex how much he means to him. He might not have a song. He definitely doesn’t have any pretty words. 

He doesn’t need it.

He’s got the universe and their cosmic love on his side.

“Alex,” he says. “I know I said I’d never look away, but I think I need to add something to that.” 

Alex’s gaze is fixed on Michael, staring at him as he reaches out to take hold of his left hand, smoothing his thumb over the healed knuckles and the line of his pinky. “What is it you wanna add onto there?”

“That when you sing to me, you make me feel like I’m the only one in the room and I _can’t_ look away. I never do,” he says, and his gaze falls briefly to Alex’s lips before he lifts it. “What I’m saying is, Alex, if you’ll let me, if you want us, then I don’t think I’m ever gonna look away. Because...it’s…” He’s struggling for the right words, even though he’s spent weeks perfecting them.

Fuck, why is he so bad at this?

“Michael,” Alex whispers.

“Yeah, Alex?”

“I am beyond okay with that,” he promises, and grabs Michael by the neck to pull him in for a kiss in front of all of Roswell. 

Michael’s grinning like an idiot by the time Alex lets go of him. Pressing their foreheads together, Michael gives Alex a teasing look. “What happened to not wanting any PDA?” 

Alex strokes Michael’s cheek with his thumb, over his jaw, down his neck. “When I’m with someone like you, it feels right.” It’s enough to make Michael inhale sharply, not expecting that. “I’m glad it didn’t take any longer than it did,” he says, more serious than before, still stroking Michael’s neck. “Come home with me tonight?”

“One condition.”

Alex backs away, almost wary, but Michael grabs him back by the hips so he can kiss him again, grazing his lips over his jaw so he can lean in.

“Delete your Grindr profile,” he whispers the only request he has, fingers pressed into Alex’s jeans to hold onto him. 

Alex’s resounding laughter makes something wake up in Michael that he thinks has been dormant for too long. It’s the sound of a new start. It’s the sound of their story starting over again. To the touch of Alex’s thumb over his neck, Michael feels his pulse speed up as everything else settles around him into his new life.

“Done,” Alex vows.


End file.
